


Oldlyweds

by soniclipstick (veriscence)



Series: tumblr [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff, Growing Old Together, M/M, Old Married Couple, Pheels, SHIELD Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veriscence/pseuds/soniclipstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt by totalnerdatheart. </p><p>Clint finds his first grey hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oldlyweds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [totalnerdatheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalnerdatheart/gifts).



> Thanks to J for being the sort of friend, who when invited over to her friend's house, ends up betaing for her. Hopefully all the mistakes on the tumblr post have been fixed.

Phil notices it on a Sunday morning when he wakes up to the warm of Clint’s back to his chest and a mouthful of blond hair. He can’t move either of his arms at the moment, as one is tucked under his husband and the other held tight, fingers entwined resting against Clint’s chest. Rays of sunlight escaping through the minute space between blinds reveal his lover to him in bands of gold, when he moves his head back to look at Clint he notices the stray strand of grey at the back of his head. It’s concealed well within chunks of silken ash blond hair. The marksman turns his head, clearly awoken by the gaze, and Phil is granted a chaste brush of the lips. Clint turns around and wraps himself around Phil, head resting in the hollow of his chest, and they go back to sleep. 

***

Clint is sitting sideways atop their washing machine, using the tumbler as a table to fold t-shirts and sweatpants while Phil irons a periwinkle pillowcase. He’s clad in a pair of Iron Man boxers (birthday gift from Tony, obviously), and a white undershirt that belongs to Phil. Phil puts away the rest of the bedclothes and walks towards the washing machine, crouching down to pull out the next load of laundry and transfer them into the tumbler. When he stands back up, it's to see Clint idly balling up a pair of thick, black socks. Phil leans in presses his lips against the skin behind his right ear, suddenly noticing a larger proportion of silver mixed with flaxen hair. Clint smiles absentmindedly and throws the sock bundle into the basket on the floor.

***

They’re bickering in the produce aisle about _kale_ of all things, which Clint refuses to eat no matter what the GP says about his low levels of vitamin K because “damn it Phil, I am not eating that shit that tastes like old vomit and there is nothing on the planet that can change my mind. It is disgusting”. In the end they compromise. For dinner that night, Clint eats the steamed kale, and afterwards watches gleefully as Phil downs the cod liver oil capsules. Phil hates his GP a little bit. 

***

It’s Friday night, which means that technically it’s date night. But there were giant slugs and so much slime that when Clint pulls out their copy of Dirty Dancing on DVD once they’re home and clean, Phil is more than ready to collapse on their sofa. They do manage to grab popcorn and a couple of beers before settling into the couch, but try as he might, Phil can’t keep his eyes open. He wakes up to the credits and fingers massaging his scalp. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

***

“Phil! Oh my God, get over here right this fucking minute!” Phil stops a second before cracking an egg onto the frying pan and instead puts it back down on the counter gently. “Phil!”

“Just give me a second.” He wipes his hands down on the apron, takes it off and takes the stairs one by one up into the master bedroom, following the escaping steam into the adjoining bathroom. There is a towel wrapped around Clint, chest still damp. “What is it?”

“I’ve got a grey hair! Look!” Clint grins and points to the side of his head with the blow dryer in his right hand. Oh, Phil hadn’t noticed that one yet. Most of them had been on the back of his head so far.

Phil smiles and draws near, raising his hand to tenderly run fingers through said side of the head.

“This warrants excitement how?”

“Don’t you know what it means?” He’s practically giddy, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“No?”

Clint laughs out loud and plants a big wet one on Phil, placing the blow dryer in the sink before reaching over to grab him by the hoodie he’s wearing and pull him closer. Clint’s hands are warm on the back of his neck. “We’re officially an old married couple now!” He exclaims before kissing Phil again, tasting of minty fresh toothpaste. “We’re growing old together.” There are sudden tears in his husbands’ kaleidoscope eyes and a smile so wide that Phil can’t help but hold him close, press reassuring kisses into his neck, into his shoulders.

“I love you so much.” Phil whispers into the crook of his neck. Clint shudders, inhaling a sudden short breath and then both hands leave his neck to dive under the hoodie and push the material up. The younger man pushes forward until Phil’s back is pressed up against the wall, clothing riding up and exposing a lean stomach and downy chest hair. Phil gasps as white hot wetness surrounds one dusky nipple and in turns grabs at the blond, pulling the towel off, hands squeezing and kneading the firm ass under his fingers. 

Clint pulls away from the nipple and kisses Phil with a hint of possessiveness, tongue trailing down to his neck and Phil knows what’s coming, is dizzy with the need for it. Teeth graze the sensitive skin of his neck, Clint growls, “ _mine_ ” before biting down hard, marking the other man as his and his alone, mirror hundreds of nights before. 

“Yours” He breathes into Clint mouth, and repeats as he always does. “I’m yours.”

Unfortunately, the oven time decides it's the right time to go off. Phil brings his hands back up and pushes Clint away reluctantly, who resists by palming his half-hard cock right through his sweats. “Stop stop, the hash browns.” And I left the stove on. Cli- ah” Phil gasps, grabbing Clint by the wrist before the hand can pull down his sweats. Closing his eyes, he presses a kiss on the knuckles before letting go. “Stop it, please. Let’s not burn our kitchen down. Breakfast, and then you can do whatever you want to me. I promise.”

Clint cocks his head to the side, raises an eyebrow. “My my, Agent Coulson, are you choosing food over having fantastic sex with your super hot husband?”

Phil pretends not to notice the lingering wetness under Clint’s eyes, choosing instead to let out a chuckle. “I guess you’re right after all, Clint. We are an old married couple.”

Clint proves afterwards that at least in that area of their relationship, they are most definitely not like an old married couple. Twice.

**Author's Note:**

> I am actually working on a 20+ chapter CC Fic but I can't seem to write past Chapter 7 at the moment, hence all the tumblr ficcing.... hope you liked it! I'm soniclipstick on tumblr by the way, come and hang out if you have tumblr and we can fangirl or fanboy to our hearts content! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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